My Reflection
by Deadly Chakram
Summary: King Thranduil reflects on Legolas from birth to present, as he watches his son leave Mirkwood to join Elrond’s council about the Dark Lord.
1. Life's Little Miracle

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I own none of the following characters or places, although I *REALLY* wish I owned Legolas to have as my own (clears throat).  They remain the sole property of JRR Tolkien and probably New Line Cimenas as well.  I receive no payment for this story, only your reviews (hint, hint, big grin).  I haven't had much time to study the story in depth, so if I get facts wrong (and since I am making this up as I go along, that's very likely to happen), please don't shred me for it (puppy eyes).  This story is told from Thranduil's point of view.  Just my excuse to hack into the mind of a character we don't often see much of and to explore what Legolas was like when he was a child.  Warning – he's not quite what you'd expect from an elf prince!  Thanks and I hope you enjoy!  9 short chapters. 

*** A warm note of THANKS!!! to those who have pointed out some inadvertent errors.  I hope that my corrections fix all my errors. ***  

*** All elvish phrases that are used I have looked up on various websites.  I am hoping that they are correct. ***

SUMMARY: King Thranduil reflects on Legolas from birth to present, as he watches his son leave Mirkwood to join Elrond's council about the Dark Lord.

RATED: PG

I remember the day my son was born like it was yesterday.  My wife and I had tried for centuries to have a child, all to no avail.  My life without a son or daughter to love was almost unbearable, and when she finally did become pregnant, I was ecstatic.

Legolas came into the world one bright and sunny morning, just over 2,000 years ago. I remember holding him in my arms; he was so tiny that I almost feared that my strong hands and arms might hurt him.  But he only looked up at me with bright blue eyes, silent.  His small pointed ears stood slightly apart from his bald head.  Ah yes, he was bald, his blonde hair not growing in until a few months down the road.  His eyes caught mine, and in that instant, an unbreakable bond was born between us.

My wife was sleeping – the labor had been long and she was drained.  I took my newborn son into the next room, not wanting to wake his mother.

His eyes were still fixed onto mine when I sat down in my study, where I knew I could speak freely to him.

"Dear little Legolas," I said, choking back the torrent of emotions that threatened to break free at any moment, "you are a gift from the Valar – the greatest gift I have ever received during all my long years of life."

Legolas still gazed at me in a sort of silent understanding. I shifted him in my arms, and he made a moan of protest, but nothing more, and settled back down as soon as I was still again.

"My beautiful little son," I started to say when it hit me.  My son!  I was a daddy!

The tears that had been threatening to break through all morning were finally released.  I don't know how long I sat there, just holding my son and crying, tears of joy streaming down my face.  When I finished, I looked up at the ceiling as I fought to regain control of my emotions.  

"Welcome to Mirkwood and the world my boy," I said, still looking upwards, still feeling emotional.  "All of Mirkwood is your kingdom, little prince."

But Legolas was already asleep in my arms.  He looked so peaceful, so small.  I bent down and kissed his perfect head, his delicate hands.  He did not stir.

Legolas.  I had chosen the name myself before he was born, should the baby be a boy.

That night, I took my son outside into the warm night.  I sat with him on the grass of a field, and I pointed out all the constellations to him.  Or at least, I tried to get through them all.  But the perfect little being in my arms held my attention, and after maybe 3 constellations, I was back to being transfixed on my son's face.  I laughed a little to myself.

"You've managed to make me addicted to you, my little Legolas."      


	2. A Time Of Firsts

When Legolas was about 5 months old, his crawling about on the floor nearly stopped.  Oh, he'd race along on hands and knees to get from room to room, but often, my wife and I would catch him pulling himself up on furniture.  Then he'd try to steady himself on his feet, eyes wide with caution, yet brow scrunched up in concentration.  And he'd attempt to take a forward step, always winding up falling back into a sitting position.  He'd take a moment and pout, then try the same process over and over again, until one of us stopped him.

I knew it would be just a matter of time before my son learned to walk.  I would grab his hands and steady him as he would step forward.  Legolas would squeal in delight, a bright smile from ear to ear.  I couldn't help but smile back and laugh.  Then, one day as my wife and I were sitting of the floor of the playroom, I turned my back for a moment to reach my son's stuffed dog, Woof.  Legolas took this opportunity to grab onto a chair, pull himself up, and begin to toddle towards his mother.  I turned around just in time to see his first unaided step.

I felt at that moment that my heart might burst with pride.  My little baby could walk on his own.

Legolas stumbled and fell just as he reached his mother.  He balled his fists in frustration, but mom clapped her hands and smiled.  

"Yay for Legolas!" she said, and soon his distress vanished and he was smiling and laughing too.

He was always such a happy baby.  That's why the excited shrieks I heard from his room late one fall day didn't seem out of place.  He was 8 months old now, and I figured that he was playing with Woof in his room.  My wife was away, visiting relatives in another part of Middle Earth.  Her brother's wife had just given birth to their first child, a girl.  

My wife and I had been trying to teach Legolas words, and we'd speak both elvish and the common speech to him, to get him used to both languages.  Knowing both would be very important to him in his future role as a prince.  So far, all we had gotten in response was babyspeak.  

I walked into his room, all intentions of playing with him.  As I had anticipated, he had his back turned to me and was playing with Woof.

"Hey there Legolas," I said, as I sat down on the floor with him to play.

"Ada!" 

I was a bit shocked.  "What?"

"Ada!"

"That's right! Ada!  I'm your ada," I said, using the elvish word for daddy.  "Very good Legolas."

Once my son began to talk, he was eager to learn more words, and showed early signs of mastering both languages.  Constantly in the house, we'd shift from elvish to the common speech throughout a conversation, sometimes even in mid sentence.  It was to ensure that Legolas was bi-lingual, fluently speaking in two major tongues of Middle Earth.      


	3. New Friendships, New Lessons

"Ada!  Ada!"

My eyes shot open.  Legolas!

I rushed down to my son's room.  He had just turned 28, still quite a child.  By the Valar though!  Every night he would wake from his sleep, screaming out in terror.  Nightmares of nameless, shapeless fears would plague each night's sleep, for all of us.

"Legolas!" I said comfortingly as I rushed into his room, my bare feet slapping inaudibly on the wooden floor.  "What is it my boy?"

He was sitting up in bed, blankets half hanging off and rumpled.  One corner was gathered in his slender arms as he held on for dear life.  I could see by the moonlight that tears were welled in his eyes.

"I had a nightmare," he shuddered a bit.

"Same as always?" I asked.

"No," he said, shaking his head.  "I dreamt that Haldir died."

Haldir was a young elf from Lothlorien, who had come on business with his parents to Mirkwood.  The bond between the Mirkwood elves and the Lorien elves had lately been tenuous at best, and Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had sent Haldir's family as ambassadors.  Haldir was just 15 years older than Legolas, but the two had become fast friends over the last couple of weeks.  They would go off playing all over the house and lawn while we adults carefully worked on a proposal to reestablish friendly, open relationships between the two elf houses.

"It's okay Legolas.  Haldir is fine, sound asleep in the next room," I reassured my son.

"But it was so real.  We were playing warriors and enemies outside, and wandered too far from the house.  He jumped onto a tree limb to escape my attack, but slipped and hit his head.  We were by the river – he fell in and was gone!"

I held my son tightly to me and felt his shuddering sobs.

"Shhh, it's okay Legolas.  It was only a dream.  I'm here now and everything will be okay."

I kissed the top of his head, his short blonde hair still sticking up in places.  He must have been tossing and turning in his sleep.  With my right hand, I smoothed the hair back down and laid Legolas back onto his pillow.  He gave a stifled yawn, and I could see the need for sleep overtake him.  I stayed by his bedside until he'd been asleep for quite sometime, before I slipped back off to my own bed.

Haldir and his family stayed in Mirkwood for the rest of that summer.  By the time they left, Haldir and Legolas, although friends, had started to compete with one another.  It was nothing serious, and most of the time they'd wind up laughing until they gasped for air.  It was the typical child's play – games of tag mostly, and Haldir was starting to teach Legolas how to climb some of the shorter trees on my estate.  But my poor son was too small still, and more often than not, the limbs were too high for him to reach.

Those were happy days, and during the afternoons, I'd hold the meetings outside, just so we could take short breaks to watch our children.

One day, it happened that it was too windy to take such important documents outside, but for the boys, the weather was fair.  Summer was drawing to a close, and Legolas was insistent that he be allowed to enjoy the pleasant weather.  Happily, he ran off to relay the message to Haldir, and we all heard the door shut as they hastened outside.

Not more than an hour or two had passed when Haldir came rushing back inside.  

"Lord Thranduil!" he frantically cried.

I rushed out of my study.  "What is it?"

"Legolas fell!  He got hurt!  Come on!"

He led me to the back of the house, when my son was holding his left arm and scowling at a rock wall that was twice his height.

"What happened?" I asked, concerned.

 "I slipped off the wall.  Haldir and I were playing, and I backed up and fell down.  My arm really hurts," he sobbed.

I gave the arm a check.  "It's broken.  But how did you get up there?" I wondered.

Then I saw the answer.  A series of stones had chipped and broken in places, making perfect foot and hand holds for climbing young elves.  I shook my head and then picked up Legolas to tend his injury.

Later that night, Legolas padded softly into my study, where I was poring over a few documents.

"Ada?  Why did my arm get broken?  I thought you said that elves can't…"

"Legolas," I shook my head and picked him up to seat him on my lap, "I told you that elves can't fall victim to sickness.  But we are not indestructible.  Wounds can still be inflicted to us, remember that."

"Are you mad at me for getting hurt?"

"No, child, I could never be angry with you for that.  But you must be careful when you play.  Promise me that."

"Okay," he grinned, and with his good arm, he hugged me tight. 


	4. A Time Of Sorrow

One morning, in Legolas' 32nd year, my wife left.  I knew it was just a matter of time.  Ever since she'd left to go see her brother's new child, she'd had the sea-longing.  Yet, it was still a shock when she told me that she needed to leave.  I begged and pleaded, but the sea-longing had been within her heart for a while.  It had grown strong – too strong for her soft spirit to resist.  We had just been discussing it, when the next morning, I found that she had gone.

Two notes had been left on the nightstand that stood next to the bed.  One note was for me, the other for Legolas.

_Please give this to Legolas.  Please try to explain things to him, _read another, smaller note that she had clipped to his letter.

I opened mine and sat down to read the letter that she had left me.  In it, she talked about our long life together and how much she loved me.  Another section was devoted to trying to apologize for leaving, but although I wanted nothing more then to have her back, I understood.  The sea-longing was as long standing as the elvish culture itself.  There was nothing she could have done.

It broke my heart to have to tell Legolas.  Oh, but how to explain!

I found him in his room, straightening the blankets on his bed.

"Morning ada!" came his cheerful greeting.

"Legolas, sit down here with me," I said, and he took a seat on his once made bed.  "I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" he asked, taking note of the sadness in my voice.

"Your mother…She left Mirkwood this morning."

"Where did she go?  When's she coming home?"

"Legolas…she's not going to come home.  She left for Valinor."

His eyes shot open in alarm.  "Is she okay?"

"Yes," I reassured him, "she had to go.  She longed for the sea."

Legolas' eyes fell from my face and looked down at the floor. "Oh."

He knew what I was talking about.  Several older elves in the kingdom had left just a few months earlier.  Talk of the sea-longing spread like wildfire, and Legolas had asked us about it, his natural curiosity taking over.  And we had given him straight answers, knowing that he would have to know about it sooner or later.  All elves know about the sea-longing.

"She left this letter for you.  Here, let's read it, okay?"

"Ada?" he asked, suddenly looking at me again, searching my face.  "You're not going to leave too, are you?"

I could see the tears welled up in his eyes.  "No, of course not.  I'm going to stay here with you.  It's going to be just the two of us from now on, but we'll be okay.  As long as we have each other, nothing bad can ever happen to us.  Okay?"

"Okay," he finally said as he hugged me tight.  Then he looked at the letter with his name on it.

"My dearest Legolas," I read, "You mean the world to me.  Leaving you and your father is the hardest thing that I have ever done.  I know that you might feel anger towards me.  I hope that someday you find it in your heart to forgive me."

I continued to read the letter, with Legolas snuggled close to me, tears streaming down his face.  In all the years prior and since, I have never seen my son as sad as he was that day.


	5. Making Mischief

Some elves go through their terrible one hundreds.  My son, however, went through his terrible five hundreds and six hundreds and seven hundreds.  At the end of that time, I had learned to watch my step and examine everything before I did anything.  Legolas was a bit of a prankster.  Okay, maybe a lot of a prankster.  He managed to make more mischief than any other young elf I have ever known of.  

By the time he was in his 600's, he should have been old enough to keep his hair long, like all the rest of the elves.  But Legolas was not like the other elves.  He had to keep his hair short until he was into his late 700's.  He simply got into too many messes! 

I remember one incident very clearly.  Lord Elrond had come from Rivendell, bringing his young daughter Arwen with him.  They had come to visit, as our two houses were on very good terms with one another.  Arwen had just turned 600, being a mere 50 years younger than my son.

Legolas had spent that morning outside, but I had given him specific instructions to be back in the house and cleaned up for our guests by noon.  I spent the day making sure that all the preparations went smoothly.  Noon came and went, but my son was nowhere to be found.  I figured that he was out playing with some friends and had lost track of the time.  It wasn't an uncommon thing for that to happen.  Legolas had many friends, many of them slightly older than him.  He was always one of the youngest members of his groups of friends, not that that bothered him much.

Many of the friendships had been formed when he was in his 100's.  I had wanted to have him privately tutored, rather than sending him to the communal school for his studies.  But he had begged and pleaded with me that he be allowed to live as normal a life as possible.  He wanted to go to the regular school, so I let him go, albeit a bit hesitantly.  He was thrilled, and made friends quickly.

For the most part, they were a good group, but they enjoyed playing their pranks.  More than once I had received a note from the headmaster, telling of the latest joke they had played.  It was harmless child's play - they'd let the class pet, a mouse named Peepers, loose in the halls, stuff a classmate's desk with dried leaves, or on occasion, they'd hide the eraser for the chalk board.  I worried what it must look like, to see the king's son acting in such a way, but then again, I hadn't been much different when I was a young elf.

Anyway, I went out to look for Legolas, to see where he had gone to.  Elrond would be arriving within two hours time, and I could just imagine what state my son would be in by this time.  For some reason, playing in the mud and dirt was appealing to him.  I suspected that some of that came from fishing down by a stream that was not very far from the house.  I wondered if he was there, since school had let out after a brief meeting that morning.

"Legolas!" I called out, opening the door and stepping out onto the back porch.  

I could not see him anywhere.  I walked down the steps, onto the grass and began walking towards one of the large trees on my property.  In my haste to find my boy, I hadn't taken notice of the nearly invisible treads strung from the tree to the leg of a bench.  My foot tripped the line, and before I knew what was happening, a bucket of sticky sap fell from its hiding spot among the tree limbs.  It fell right onto my head, the sap running down over my shoulders and making little rivers down my clothes.  I should have stayed standing in one place, but instead, I made the mistake of moving.  I tripped on the roots of the tree, and fell into a bunch of feathers.

"Oh no!" came a groan from above me, and as I pulled the bucket off my head, I saw my son drop from the tree.  He landed on both feet and looked as if he was about to run off.  

"Legolas," I growled, trying to keep my anger in check.  Of all the days he had to pull a prank!

"I'm sorry atar!  I didn't mean for you to be my victim.  This was meant for Trenafor and Jacl!  It was just a small prank I was going to play on them!" came the rushed reply.

I shook my head as I attempted to pluck some of the feathers from my face, hair, and clothes.  

"Greetings Lord Thranduil!" came a voice from behind me.

Lord Elrond had arrived earlier than expected, and one of my servants had directed him out back, where he had seen me on the porch.  Behind him was Arwen, shy as one could imagine.

"Did I come at a bad time?" he asked.

"Lord Elrond," I said, turning away from Legolas.  "You're early."

"And you look like a bird," he joked back.

"Ah, I see you've noticed.  You've just missed my son's little prank.  This is Legolas," I said, and he appeared from behind me to greet Rivendell's lord.  "I beg your pardon, but would you mind waiting whilst I clean up?  Have you eaten yet?  I'll have Farga bring you something."

"Thank you, that would be most appreciated."

"I will be back as soon as I can."

Grabbing Legolas by the hand, I went back into the house.  Instructing Farga to bring some lunch to Elrond and Arwen, I then went to get cleaned up.  "You had better make yourself a little more presentable too," I told Legolas, eyeing the dirt on his face and clothing.

It wasn't much later when I was finally able to go back to talk to Elrond.  Legolas sat by my side, patiently, but I knew he was thinking of how much trouble he could possibly be in.  Giving him leave to go, he went off to give Arwen a tour of Mirkwood, and right away, I could see her come out of her shell.

That night, I stayed awake long after Elrond had retreated to the guest room.  I went down to my son's room, but found it empty.  Where was he?  I searched the house.  There was no trace of him.  Finally, in desperation, I checked outside.  There he was, laying back on the grass, staring at the stars.

"Legolas!  What are you doing out here?  I was worried about you!"

"I'm sorry for what happened this afternoon atar," he said, not looking away from the stars.  "How mad are you?"

"I'm not mad.  I'm…I'm disappointed in you Legolas.  Of all the days!  Why today?"

"It was the perfect setup!  They were going to come by to say hello, and they'd walk right into the trap.  I was wrong, I know."

I sighed a little under my breath.  "I know that you wanted to have fun with your friends.  But you have to start thinking about the big picture Legolas!  There's a time and a place for everything."

"I know, I know.  I guess I didn't think."

A heavy silence fell until I began to laugh lightly.

"What's so funny?" Legolas asked.

"I once did something very similar to what you did today.  Only I got my intended victims."

He smiled.  "Really?"

I nodded.  "So, what are you doing out here?"

"Just looking at the constellations.  What's that one over there?  I can't remember the name."

"Well, there's the Big Dipper over there.  The one you are looking at is the great dragon – Draco."

"Oh, right!" he said, pointing out the head, body and tail.  He fell silent a moment before he spoke again.  "Atar?  Can we do this all the time?  I really like the stars and the stories behind them."

"Of course we can," I smiled back at him, and laid down next to him.  I don't recall how long we stayed out there, pointing out the stars and remembering the old legends behind them, but it was quite possibly one of the most wonderful nights we had together, and as promised, Legolas and I made a habit of going out each night to look at the stars, so long as the weather permitted.   


	6. A Time Of Discoveries

Time passed, and soon Legolas' wilder days of pranks were behind him.  His studies were finally taking precedence, and he was heavily involved with learning everything that he could.  Sports were also a source of enjoyment for him.  He ran races, conquered obstacle courses, and took up swordplay.  Although I hated to see my son's love of the ways of the warrior, I didn't discourage him.  He was just beginning to discover who it was that he wanted to become, and I wasn't going to stop him from finding out who that elf was.

And so his lessons in swordplay continued.  He enjoyed it, but many a time he made mention to me that there had to be something else, some other form of fighting that he could learn.  Reluctant to say anything, I remained silent, until one day, he burst through the doors after practice.

"Atar!" he called, and I could hear the excitement in his voice.  "I found it!"

"Found what Legolas?" I said, emerging from my study.

"What it is that I was missing.  Atar, today my instructor taught me how to use a bow!  That's what I've been missing."

"So you enjoy it, do you?"

"Yes, but why did you not speak of it before?  Why did you remain silent when I spoke of wanting to learn other ways to fight?"

"Legolas, though we elves are known for our skill with a bow, I had wished that you had found something else to pursue.  You know not the harshness of the warrior's life."

"Who said I wanted to become a warrior?"

I sighed.  "It is not that simple Legolas.  You will be trained as a warrior now that you have decided to pursue fighting.  It will become a part of who you are."

"That does not matter," he said definitely.  "I will continue my lessons.  What if something were to happen one day and Mirkwood comes under attack?  Should I not be able to defend my – our – kingdom?"

"Yes my son, but you must always remember that the ways of diplomacy are the first route."

He turned towards the door.  "I know atar.  But what if that fails?  I will not see my people die in battles I cannot aid them in, should that circumstance ever arise."

With that, he left the room.  I thought over all that he had said, and when I looked up, the sun was already setting in the sky.  I went down to my own room.  Taking a small gold key from its hiding spot in the top drawer of my nightstand, I unlocked the old wooden chest that I kept under my bed.  From it, I brought out a slender bow and a leather quiver filled with green-feathered arrows.

I brought these down to my son's room.  He was sitting at his desk, which was on the far side of the room, near the window that overlooked the back of my estate.  He was writing something down, then after signing his name and sealing it in an envelope, he affixed a seal to the back.  I could make out the name on the outside of the envelope – Haldir.  He and Legolas often wrote one another and would send letters with some of the elves who often made the trip between the two areas for trading purposes.

"Legolas," I said, knocking lightly on the door.  "Can we talk?"  
  


"Of course atar, I just need to put a stopper on the ink bottle."  He pushed a stopper onto the top of the bottle and then turned to me.

"I thought a lot about what you said to me before and have come to a conclusion.  Though I wish you had chosen not to learn to ways of the warrior, I dare not keep you from the path you have chosen.  Here, this is my old bow.  It was given to me when I was your age, but I never took to it the way my instructors wished me to.  Use it for practice, and in the mean time, I will have the weapon smiths create the perfect bow for you."

I could see that he was a bit shocked at my change in attitude.  "Thank you.  Thank you for this," he finally said, motioning to the bow and arrows, "and for being so understanding."

I nodded.  He had never married, never had children, and so did not understand what sacrifices a father sometimes has to make.  He knew not how difficult it can be to let one's child discover for themselves what path in life they are called to walk.     


	7. A Matter Of Politics

Legolas continued with his lessons with the bow and with the sword.  I must admit, he was quick to learn and soon rivaled even the best archers in skill with a bow.  As promised, I had gotten him the finest bow that the weapon smiths could create, and soon it became a regular sight to see him prowling the forests of Mirkwood in training.  Other times, he would go out on hunting trips to track down and destroy the random band of orcs that would sometimes be seen near our borders.  Legolas insisted that it was good for training, but I was worried.  Although it was not entirely unheard of to see orcs near or borders, the frequency of sightings as of late had increased greatly.  Something was brewing.

It was in Legolas' 1458th year that I had to leave Mirkwood in a matter of great business.  Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had summoned me to Lothlorien.  Orcs had gotten into the woods of Lorien, and although Haldir and others had killed them all, this matter was still very disturbing.

I left Legolas in charge of Mirkwood while I went.  I would have had him travel with me, but I did not feel comfortable leaving my kingdom unguarded, should the orcs return.

It was only a week after I had left that Gandalf the Grey, a great wizard and friend to our family, had come to Mirkwood to discuss strengthening the alliance between Rivendell and Mirkwood.  It was not that our alliance had fallen to the wayside, but that Elrond too, was beginning to fear the evil that was so subtly rebuilding itself.  Yet Elrond could not come to Mirkwood himself, having other matters to attend to.  Gandalf had been sent as an ambassador.  

I know only the stories that I have been told, but it appears that some of the ideas that Elrond had would have been impossible for us to comply with.  He had asked for the support of five legions of archers to help his fight against the orcs, who had been brazen enough to attempt breaking into Rivendell each day for several months.  Many of his best swordsmen had been injured in their battles.  Now he asked for more support.

Legolas knew that he could not send the five legions.  That would leave barely one legion of archers left in Mirkwood.  It was too risky, even though Mirkwood had been left in peace for nearly eight months.  He sent back word that he could spare two legions.  Elrond pressured for four.  Legolas once again sent back word that he could not comply with that, though he desperately wanted to be able to help them out.

Gandalf returned with the reply.  Elrond was still in need of help.  Could Legolas spare but four legions, for the outlook of Rivendell was far from sunny.  Legolas offered two legions once again.

This time, when Gandalf returned, Elrond had accepted the two legions.  They were dispatched as soon as possible, sent with all speed to aid Elrond and the Rivendell elves.

When I returned from Lothlorien, I found two legions of archers missing.  Wondering what could have happened (and immediately thinking the worst case scenario that we had been attacked), I went straight back to my estate.  There I found Legolas sipping wine with Gandalf, pouring over some other documents and requests from not only Elrond, but a handful of other places in Middle Earth.

I did not get a chance to look over the documents and Legolas' proposed courses of action until the next morning, for it had been late when I had finally gotten inside my home once again.  As I looked them over, I couldn't help but smile to myself.  What my son had done was just what I would have done in the situations that had been handed to him.  

A small sigh of relief escaped from my lips.  I had been worried about Legolas' role as a prince – in the aspect of the politics behind it.  My son's heart was large and giving.  How would he stand up to the pressures of other places in need and the requests made of him?  But now it was apparent that my fears, though justified, had been misplaced.  He would do just fine as a diplomatic ruler.    


	8. A Time Of Farewells

Years passed.  Legolas was now over 2,000 years old.  Rumor began to grow that the evil of Mordor had reawaken and that Sauron was gathering strength.  I, for my part, though I wished it nothing more than a rumor, knew that the signs were there.  Orcs had begun to multiply once again.  This we knew even though they had ceased their attacks on the elven strongholds.  In Mordor, it was said that the old tower was occupied once again by nameless, unseen terrors.

Gandalf came through our lands during all of this talk, searching for the creature called Gollum.  Information was needed about the One Ring.

This was terrible news.  What could Gandalf possibly need information on Ring of Power for?  But Gandalf would not answer our questions, merely saying that he couldn't go into detail about his quest.  

In any event, he continued onwards, and for quite some time, we did not hear from him.  Whispers and theories circulated about what had his quest been, but for the most part, things quieted back down.  And things remained quiet until one fall day.  

I had been lounging about on the back porch, just enjoying the day, having put off some of the work that I had planned to accomplish that afternoon.  Legolas was out there with me too, laying up in the branches of one of the trees.  He hadn't much else to do that afternoon, and so there he was up in the tree, humming an old elvish tune to himself.

A messenger came rushing around the corner of the house, a rolled notice in his hand.  I recognized him as Elrond's messenger immediately.

"Hold there Salidor!  What is the hurry?" I greeted my old friend.

"Lord Thranduil!  I bear urgent news from Lord Elrond!" he responded, finally reaching me and handing me the note he carried.

Legolas jumped nimbly down from his tree limb and strode over to me.  I read the note aloud.

"Thranduil – How unfortunate are the circumstances under which I write to you.  Urgent business requires your presence at Rivendell.  The rumors of the growing evil in Mordor are naught but true.  Evil looms on the near horizon.  I am calling forth a great council here in Rivendell unlike Middle Earth has seen thus far.  I have sent word to representatives of each of the free races – men, dwarves, and elves alike.  Gandalf is with me as I write, tending to the very halfling that brings such ill news as is Aragorn.  I have not time to elaborate further.  I trust that I will see either yourself or your most trusted ambassador soon.  Elrond."

I had barely had time to collect my thoughts on what I had just read when Legolas was calling for Farga, the servant, to get his horse ready for departure to Rivendell at dawn the next day.  Sunset was not far off, and he would not be ready to leave until the following morning.

"Tell Lord Elrond that my father is sending his representative.  Make haste – have you a fresh stead to bear you back to Rivendell?" Legolas asked Salidor.

"Yes sir, he is awaiting me at the entrance gate to your home.  I will tell Lord Elrond to expect your father's representative.  But I must leave now – I bid your leave."

"You have my leave Salidor," I replied to the younger elf, and he took off running to relay the message.  

"Legolas," I stated to say.

"I must prepare for tomorrow," he answered.

"Why do you feel that you must go?"

"You need to stay here atar.  Mirkwood needs their king here to look after things.  I will go to Elrond.  Long have I desired to look upon Rivendell and long has it been since I last saw Aragorn.  Besides, I feel that there may be more to this council than Elrond is telling us.  I can travel faster and as it seems from his letter, time is of the essence."

"Yes, but are you sure that you want to be the one to go?"

He nodded his head.  "I am prince of Mirkwood.  I will represent our people."

I couldn't help but feel pride at that moment, knowing that Legolas was taking on such a large responsibility.  Yet, at the same time, I could see the wander lust within him flicker briefly in his eyes at the prospect of traveling outside of the kingdom.

"Please," I asked, "let me send a few attendants with you.  They know the way to Rivendell and will take you by the fastest route."

"Alright atar, I will welcome the help that they can offer."

With that, I sent Olehek, another servant of mine, to fetch my most trusted and most traveled attendants and alert them that they would be leaving with my son at dawn.

Later that night, I went to my son's room.  He was already packed for the journey and had sent everything over to the stable so that once morning hit, everything was ready to go.

"Legolas," I said, sitting down on his bed, "it seems odd to think that for the first time, you will be leaving Mirkwood in order to represent your kin elsewhere.  I have faith that you will make the right decisions. Quel marth my son." _Good luck._

"Diola lle atar." _Thank you father._

"Lle creoso." _You're welcome._

When the next morning came, I went to the stables with him to see him off on his journey.  A heaviness had laid itself on my heart, yet I did not know why.

"Amin mela lle atar.  Namaarie."  _I love you father.  Farewell._

"Namaarie Legolas.  Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'."  _Farewell Legolas.  My heart shall weep until it sees thee again.  _

I watched him go then, and stayed rooted to the spot as his riding form and attendants became nothing more than a small dot against the horizon.  And even after he had dropped from out of view, down a gently sloping hill into the woods, I remained.  It was Farga that eventually got me to move, insisting that I return to the house, always reassuring me that my son would be fine. 


	9. News On My Son

Today the attendants that I sent with Legolas returned.  My son was not with them.  Immediately, I left my work and sat down to speak with them.

The Ring of Power had indeed been found, they told me.  A hobbit from the Shire, a Frodo Baggins by name, had come by the ring when it was entrusted to him by his uncle Bilbo.  The obvious choice of the council had been to destroy the ring, but as could be expected, none of the different free peoples could come to a conclusion of who would destroy the ring.  The hobbit had spoken up, vowing to destroy it even though he knew not the way to Mordor.

Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir of Gondor, three other hobbits, Gimli the dwarf and my son had all pledged their alliance and help to the young halfling.  They had been dubbed The Fellowship of the Ring by Elrond, and had set out from Rivendell immediately.  Legolas had sent the attendants back to me to carry the news that he would not be coming back to Mirkwood right away.

Thanking them, I send them away and sit in the chair by the window.  I stare out for what seems like days but must in actuality be but hours.  I try to take everything in.  My son is on a mission to destroy the ring of power.  It is a dangerous quest, and even an elf may find pain or death.  No!  I mustn't think like that!  He will be fine.  Legolas can take care of himself.  Middle Earth needs him now.

May the grace of the Valar be with him and may he return safely home to me. 


End file.
